


good things come to those who bait

by thundersquall



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, honestly idek what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundersquall/pseuds/thundersquall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Jonny, Patrick, Sid and Geno are fishermen. No, really. This is just ridiculous crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good things come to those who bait

**Author's Note:**

> This is all [ultramarinus'](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultramarinus) fault. She showed me [this photo](http://media.tumblr.com/5fbb8c28c15ee07ed43a0463204ddb42/tumblr_inline_n8mulebZ5R1s2jl27.jpg) of Sid in Crocs and socks and all the atoms in my body recoiled for about two seconds before I started laughing and I _didn't stop all night_. And then this happened.
> 
> Also they are all married couples in this, it just seemed to work like that, idk /rolls with everything! Clearly nothing is serious in this fic, it's all crack \o///

Four days into skipjack tuna season, Patrick turns up on their seiner wearing a pair of [new rubber gloves](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/411YTxYV%2BKL._SY300_.jpg) Jonny's never seen. They're bright pink with a wide cuff printed with a floral pattern and actual fucking giant plastic magnolias sewn onto them.

They're the most hideous gloves Jonny has ever laid eyes on.

"What is that," he says flatly, turning The Eyes on Patrick. Usually The Eyes make every single crewman on board snap to attention. They never work on Patrick, and they don’t work now.

"New gloves, obviously," Patrick says.

"I can see that, asshole. Why are they such an eyesore, is what I'm asking."

Patrick glares at him. "They're sweet as fuck and you're just jealous your plain black gloves are as boring as your _face_."

"I'd rather look boring than look like someone shit a flower garden all over my hands," Jonny shoots back.

Patrick opens his mouth to retort, but is interrupted when Shawsy sticks his head out of the bridge to yell at them. "Captain? Guys? Can we fucking move? Crosby's seiner just left harbour."

"Jesus," Jonny says, throwing his hands in the air, and stomps off to the bridge.

___

 

The gloves stay on even when they return to the harbour with 300 kilograms of tuna and make anchor. Jonny averts his eyes as best as he can, but he can't help seeing flashes of bright pink and swaying flowers out of the corner of his eye as Patrick lifts and hauls frozen blocks of fish.

They stay on even after the truck's been loaded with the catch, when Jonny's driving to their warehouse, and Patrick is next to him in the passenger seat, fidgeting and tapping his feet. He twiddles with the radio (with the stinky, hideous gloves still on, _god_ ) until he finds some country station playing 'Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy', and starts belting out the song right into Jonny's ear, woefully off-tune but singing lustily like he's a country music legend.

Only Patrick Toews-Kane can so completely lack any self-awareness, that he can rock horrifically out-of-tune to country music while wearing pink flowery rubber gloves. Jonny honestly thinks he has never seen anything worse than – 

He pulls up in front of the warehouse; Sid and Geno's truck is already there, and Sid is [bent over and digging in a Styrofoam box](http://media.tumblr.com/5fbb8c28c15ee07ed43a0463204ddb42/tumblr_inline_n8mulebZ5R1s2jl27.jpg) in front of him, and - _oh_. Maybe there _are_ worse things, because Sid's yellow Crocs are already an eyesore on their own merit, but he's wearing a pair of soaked white cotton socks under them, and just - _no_.

Jonny may be a fisherman, but he prides himself on looking good and dressing well, okay, and things like what Pat and Sid wear are an affront to every fibre of his being.

Patrick jumps out of the truck when Jonny stops, waving and yelling cheerfully to Sid and Geno. "Hey guys! Good catch?"

"It was okay," Sid grunts as he straightens up, holding a frozen crab in each hand. He gives Patrick a once-over, eyes lingering on the gloves, and then grimaces. "Kane, what are those things? They're revolting."

Jonny feels a momentary flash of triumph, which rapidly recedes because what the fuck, Crosby, no one's allowed to diss his husband except for him and him alone, okay?

"Says the person wearing fucking eye-searing yellow Crocs with socks," he says loudly, and is gratified to see Sid drop the crabs.

"What you say?" Geno growls from beside Sid, ripping off his own gloves and flinging them to the ground, and oh man, it's fucking _on_.

"My hero," Patrick says later, grinning, after Jonny and Geno had spent about ten minutes yelling obscenities at each other about their respective husbands' sartorial choices (Geno fully supportive of Sid and loudly disapproving of Pat, Jonny coolly disdainful about Sid and furiously loyal about Pat), and pats Jonny's cheek. The fucking gloves are still on, and they leave a streak of fish slime on his face.

Jonny's going to yell again, but Patrick tiptoes and kisses him, his wet curls dripping all over Jonny, and, well, maybe Jonny's had enough of yelling for a day.

___

 

The very next morning, at the wholesaler's market, Jonny and Pat get into another shouting match in front of about fifty buyers at the morning auction for their tuna catch.

No one is surprised. Patrick and Jonny can't go a single day without yelling at each other about something or other. In fact, Geno swears that half the people who turn up at the auction every morning come just for the entertainment that Pat and Jonny provide.

Today's fight is something to do with Jonny's base pricing, as far as Geno can gather. Patrick thinks Jonny set the base way too high. Jonny never likes being told he's wrong. So they're fighting now, trading insults back and forth, Jonny's voice still low but dangerously furious, and Patrick screaming and flailing his arms like a windmill. 

Seriously, if he didn’t know them, he'd never think they were married. Geno remembers when Jonny and Pat had first moved to Nova Scotia and muscled in on the fishing industry here, and he'd honestly thought they detested each other. He'd wondered why they worked together when they seemed to hate each other so much, until Sid pointed out the rings to him, and then there were times when everything seemed good and lovely and Patrick would be kissing Jonny or Jonny would be looking at Patrick with soft googly eyes or something, and Geno realized: oh, they were married, like he and Sid.

Those good lovely times never last long. They're like the calm before the storm.

Geno looks fondly at Sid, quietly and confidently navigating their own blue crab auction with interested bidders. He's still wearing the yellow Crocs which Geno had bought for him last week (because Crocs are just _so cool_ , like the pinnacle of trendsetting in North America, according to all the magazines Geno's seen which talk about how popular Crocs are nowadays), and doesn’t Geno's gift look so perfect on Sid. Everything looks perfect on Sid.

"I fucking hate you, you fuckface know-it-all," screeches Pat from across the market, and Geno mentally says a Russian prayer of thankfulness he learned as a child that his Sid isn’t like that.

___

 

Sometimes, Jonny and Geno go off together for drinks in the afternoon, after the auctions are done. Occasionally Pat, or Sid, or both will tag along, but today they both stay back at the market while Jonny and Geno head off, doing god knows what. Probably conjuring up new ways of tormenting him with their slob fishwife tendencies, Jonny thinks.

They have steak and eggs at a diner near the market, because neither of them ever really feel like eating fish after smelling it for hours every day, and after a few beers, Jonny says sadly, "Don’t you ever wish Sid was less of a fashion disaster?"

Geno is taken aback. Then he starts to get mad, because how dare Jonny say such things about Sid? Sid is fucking _perfect_ , okay, and Jonny can go fuck himself.

He's gearing up to say so when Jonny sees the look on his face, and adds, "Look, Pat is just as bad, okay? So it's not like I'm gloating, or taunting you, or anything. Fuck, I don’t even know what to do with Pat sometimes."

Geno still wants to be mad, because – god – did Jonny really just say Sid was _bad like Patrick_ , but Jonny looks so honestly despairing that Geno just can't find it in his heart to pick a fight with him.

So he just says, "What wrong with Sid?"

Jonny looks at Geno like he thinks Geno hasn’t fully woken up yet. "You know. The _Crocs_."

"I give Crocs to Sid," Geno says firmly. "For present. Sid likes yellow."

Jonny looks faintly like he might throw up. "Are you kidding me? You think he looks good in those things? With the damn socks?"

"What wrong with socks?" Geno asks defensively. And then he adds, a touch dreamily, "I think Sid look beautiful in Crocs." Because Sid _does_. Especially in the Crocs that Geno chose and bought for him.

Jonny slumps forward and puts his face in his hands. "Geno, man, I thought better of you. I thought you had better taste than that."

"Nothing wrong with my taste," Geno says. "You look at yours. You think flower gloves make Kane look pretty?"

"It's Toews-Kane," Jonny says automatically. "And no, I didn’t get those monstrosities for him. He bought them himself, god knows where."

Geno thinks for a while. "I ask him. Maybe buy a pair for Sid."

"You would _not_." Jonny looks more horrified than that time last year when his seiner's propeller broke and he couldn’t take her out to sea for a week. 

"They look ugly on Kane – Toews-Kane – but they will be pretty on Sid," Geno declares.

Jonny groans loudly.

___

 

A week later, Sid is stoically wearing his bright yellow Crocs (with socks) at market, along with a pair of violently purple floral gloves, of the exact same design as Patrick's pink ones.

Patrick is delighted. "Everyone loves these, Jonny." He waggles his floral-glove-clad hands obnoxiously in Jonny's face. "Told you! You're the one without any taste, you boring shit."

"I know I have crappy taste, that's why I married you," Jonny hisses.

Patrick scowls. "Low blow, Toews."

"Toews-Kane," Jonny corrects, on autopilot.

Patrick huffs, a little exasperated exhalation of air. "Why do you even have to tell me that, it's not like I don’t know," he says after a while, pouting. Jonny is a fucking dork; he really doesn’t know why he married the guy sometimes.

___

 

Jonny and Geno are off on one of their fisherman-bonding drink sessions again. Probably bitching about his and Sid's choice of exciting, colourful, mood-lifting accessories, Patrick thinks.

Sid appears at that moment at his stall across from Pat's, in his Crocs-and-socks and purple gloves, and begins hosing down the area. Dirty water and fish guts splash over to Patrick's area, lapping at his own (sad, boring, sensible) black rubber boots, and maybe Patrick really ought to be cleaning up too, there are overturned empty Styrofoam boxes and fish heads like, everywhere, but he can't be bothered. Jonny can do it when he gets back.

"Yo," he calls across to Sid. "Crosby. Sid."

"What," Sid barks back, without looking up.

"Love your shoes," Pat shouts. He's really not expecting Sid's lips to thin dangerously and for him to fling the water hose down, spraying water everywhere.

"I swear to god, Kane, if you say one more damn thing about my shoes, I'm going to dunk your head in this bucket of fish entrails I've got here."

"Woah, dude, I never said anything bad about your shoes? That was Jonny, man. And Jonny has like, zero fashion sense whatsoever. It's people like us who appreciate the greater things in life." He waggles his eyebrows and raises a pink floral glove-clad hand at Sid, wiggling his fingers at him.

"Good," Sid says, bending to retrieve the hose, looking slightly less affronted. "Because Geno gave those to me, and I know they look like shit, but – "

He snaps his mouth closed like he suddenly realizes he's said something wrong, and Patrick widens his eyes.

"You hate those things? Dude, you hate them?"

"I – maybe." Sid throws him a hard look, probably the Crosby version of Jonny's Eyes, Patrick thinks. They don’t work on Pat either. "But – Geno bought them, you know? He likes them on me. I don’t want to hurt him. So – I wear them. And if you even breathe a word of this, I'll rip your face apart with my harpoon. And you should know I'm _very_ good at filleting flesh cleanly from bones."

Patrick frowns. "Calm your tits, man. I don’t understand why anyone would hate them. Look at them, they're so bright and great. Like our gloves." He grins, wide and sunny.

Sid looks like he's trying very hard not to explode or something, a muscle twitching in his cheek and his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Finally he says, "Whatever, just buy a pair if you like them so much. And I don’t have tits."

"That wasn't even literal, you nut, I don’t even - why are all you Canadians like this?" Patrick says, scowling.

___

 

Twenty days into skipjack tuna season, Patrick hops aboard their seiner with the pink rubber gloves (grotty and stained brown in spots by now), and – Jonny nearly has a seizure – a pair of bright red Crocs. The one small mercy is that he's not wearing socks under them. Even Patrick Toews-Kane is not _that_ fashion-backwards, okay.

"I want a divorce," is the first thing Jonny says when Patrick bounces up to him, all dimples and riotous curls. Pat doesn’t even flinch, just flips him off.

"Maybe I'd believe you if you stopped saying that every day. Ever heard the fable of the boy who cried wolf? That's you, Jonny, you're crying fucking wolf."

"Jesus Christ," Jonny says, and he _means_ it. He needs to find Jesus, like, now.

___

 

Geno is staring at Kane – sorry, Toews-Kane, the Patrick version, across from them.

"Sid," he whispers, tugging at Sid's sleeve. Sid is bent over a block of frozen fish, preparing to saw it open. His hands, in the new purple flowery gloves Geno bought for him, are sure and steady, moving without hesitation. His Sid is just perfect. "Sid," he says again.

"What?"

"Patrick. He copy your shoes, Sid."

"What shoes?"

"These shoes! The Crocs! He copy us, Sid. He wearing red Crocs." Geno says it like it's the most disgusting thing he's ever seen in his life.

"Oh. Yeah. He told me last week he was going to get a pair."

"Why?"

"I don’t know. Because I look pretty in the ones you gave me? Now can you stop staring at him and help me out here?"

Geno fairly puffs up with pride. "You look pretty," he agrees. "Pat – not so much."

"Not at all," Sid says, and finally a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Geno glances over again. Patrick is sitting on one of the overturned boxes, humming tunelessly as he watches Jonny heft pots and boxes. Jonny is shirtless even in the icy chill of the day, and his chest is shiny with sweat and seawater. 

"You look hot," he hears Patrick say to Jonny.

"Yeah? You don’t," Jonny grunts. 

"Take that back," Patrick shouts, and Geno braces himself for yet another shouting match.

"Maybe if you take the Crocs and gloves off, I'll consider it."

Geno expects Patrick to start yelling at any moment. What he doesn’t expect to hear are a couple of thuds as Patrick toes off his Crocs and drops his gloves to the dirty floor of the warehouse, and then – Geno is _horrified_ , god, does Patrick have no shame? – runs the toe of his bare foot up along the back of Jonny's calf, pressing gently into the meat of his thigh.

"What else do you want me to take off, _oh captain_?" he says, tone mocking and breathy all at once.

Geno most definitely does not want to watch further. He turns resolutely to face Sid, who continues staring at Jonny and Pat from over his shoulder. From the way Sid is turning red, Geno can guess that Jonny and Patrick have progressed to the kissing. It's a common enough sight, but not something Geno needs to see every day, thank you very much.

"We – uh. I don’t suppose you want me to take these off, too?" Sid finally asks when he tears his eyes away from Patrick and Jonny to look at Geno. He bites his lower lip, and under other circumstances Geno would be pretty sure Sid's trying to be seductive, maybe to show the fucking Toews-Kanes over there how it's _done_ in the Crosby-Malkin household, and Geno would totally be up for it, but – no.

"No," he says, aghast. "No – Sid, why you want take off my gifts? You look good. Sid look best in them."

Sid looks _crushed_.

Geno is confused, but Sid smooths his features into a smile, and says, "Okay. Okay. I'm not taking them off, Geno, don’t worry." He pats Geno's cheek with his purple-gloved hand. 

"Good," Geno says sincerely. "I like to see you like this. Wearing the things I give you. Maybe next time I buy you more. Make you look better."

"Okay," Sid says again, only this time it comes out sounding oddly strangled.

___

 

Twenty-one days into skipjack tuna season, Patrick and Jonny pull up at the warehouse. Pat is back to wearing normal black rubber gloves and boots and is walking about with a stupid _I-got-laid-so-fucking-good-I-can't-think-straight_ grin on his face, and Jonny is looking ridiculously smug.

Sid's still wearing the yellow Crocs, the white socks, the purple floral gloves, and a new neon orange t-shirt with huge gold words that say _FISHING IS GREAT, BUT MY SEX LIFE IS BETTER_. His face is absolutely impassive.

No one looks happier than Geno does.


End file.
